


No Shame

by soxandwhiskey



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, G!P, One Shot Collection, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28384341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soxandwhiskey/pseuds/soxandwhiskey
Summary: Just a collection of pretty much all smut.
Relationships: Alex Morgan/Kelley O'Hara, Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett, Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 23
Kudos: 196





	1. Boxing Day (Tobin/Christen)

**Author's Note:**

> Unrelated unless otherwise stated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boxing Day with Tobin and Christen.

It’s the morning after Christmas, and the whole world seems to have joined them in enjoying a slow morning, a quiet lie-in. The room still dark, the sun itself having trouble rising to illuminate the day. But the grey English sky, the way the wind seems to rap against the window panes sets the perfect mood for their perfect lazy Boxing Day plans. Tobin breathes in deeply, contentedly, as her hand skims slowly over her wife’s belly, down over the hem of her fleecy sleep-shirt to slip under the elastic of the tattered old boxers Christen had stolen from her half of their shared top drawer. The skin she finds, fingertips tracing down a familiar path, is warm with sleep, and Tobin smiles against Christen’s tanned shoulder as her fingers find wet heat, a smile that only grows as she feels her wife press back into her, ass wiggling against her morning erection.

“Morning,” Tobin whispers softly, and watches as the muscles shift with every ride and fall of her other half’s chest. 

Christen laughs, reaching back to pull her wife’s thigh over her hip, humming softly as Tobin moans at the way her cock is cradled so perfectly, pressed insistently against the curve of Christen’s ass. “Feels like someone’s been up for awhile,” Christen teases, and even if Tobin can’t see the wide smile stretching across her wife’s face, she knows it’s there.

“Well, I though maybe you’d like to sleep in a little,” Tobin kisses down her neck as she moves her hips gently against Christen’s warmth. She can already feel the slick pre-cum on her wife’s skin where her cockhead has leaked, anticipating the pleasure of burying herself deep inside the other woman. “I’d planned to wake you up like this,” her lips find their favorite little spot, just under the curve of Christen’s jaw, as she slips her fingers over the hard nub hidden between her wife’s swollen folds. 

Christen moans, sleepy and soft in the the quiet room, and Tobin bites down, just a little, just enough. There won’t be a mark, not really, but she’ll know every time that Christen turns her head, the slightest of aches will act as a reminder. And she releases the skin, relishing the little hiss that escapes from her wife.

“You’re not sore?” Tobin checks, always concerned for her wife’s needs. And they had spent most of their socially distanced Christmas wrapped up in each other, after all. But Christen shakes her head, reaching back between them to stroke a fingertip over Tobin’s hard, swollen, leaking head.

It’s Tobin’s turn to moan now, Tobin’s turn to be teased. Except her tolerance is far, far lower than her wife’s, and it’s only moments before she’s covering Christen’s hand with her own, and guiding herself to the other woman’s opening. “Fuck, baby,” the groan escapes her mouth as she presses into Christen’s sex, feeling the way the woman seems almost to have been made for her, for her cock, “You always feel so tight.”

Christen laughs softly, and she brings their joined hands to her clit, beginning to rub softly until Tobin gets the hint and takes over. And for long, quiet moments, the world has shrunk down to the two of them, Tobin’s gentle thrusts, her accidental grunts. And Christen gasps, the feel of her wife’s rough fingers over her, in such perfect counterpoint to the rhythm that Tobin has set.

“Fuck,” Tobin whispers, realizing that this won’t last much longer. But Christen just grips her tighter, fingers pinching at her own nipples as she rocks back against her wife. And all the thoughts in Tobin’s head slip away, everything but the feel of her wife’s body, the wet heat of it, and the climax that threatens to overtake her. “Safe?” she asks, reduced to single words, and even the toll of that simple question seems to be too much.

“No more than it was yesterday,” Christen laughs, needing no translation, and she can feel the disappointment in the way her wife tenses just the slightest, shoring up her resolve. But Tobin’s fingers move faster, like she’s desperate for her wife to catch up, until Christen reaches down to take them in her own hand, squeezing them tight as she stills them. And Tobin doesn’t need to see the other woman’s face to know there’s love there. Love and understanding and contentment there. She kisses her wife’s shoulder again, stretching her legs down to the foot of the bed as she begins to move faster, thrust deeper.

It doesn’t take long to reach the place she’s searching for, that precipice, hips moving fast, no rhythm but need now. And Tobin knows she’s tempting fate with every thrust of her hips, every last stroke into the warm home of her wife’s body. She knows. Each one could be the last, the point of no return, where instead of being smart and sensible and responsible, she just pulls Christen’s hips as close as possible, burying her cock as deep as she can before releasing, filling her wife with her seed. It’s happened once or twice. But it’s just so hard to find the perfect line, to stop right as she feels her climax approach. So hard to pull out and spill over Christen’s belly, or her back, or worst of all, the barren sheets beneath them.

Still, she knows, she must. She has to. And so it’s with a low, pained moan that Tobin withdraws from her wife’s body, fist covering her cock and moving almost furiously until with an aching grunt, she comes, her semen covering the insides of Christen’s thighs.

Christen gives her a minute, letting her catch her breath, letting her heart rate settle and the flush of endorphins fade before she turns, rolling to face her wife. “Good girl,” she whispers softly as she captures Tobin’s lower lip between her own, biting softly. And even in the height of her disappointment Tobin would be hard-pressed to deny the warmth and pleasure the simple words fill her with.

“One day,” Tobin whispers, still breathing heavy, and watches as Christen nods.

Her wife squeezes her hand. “One day it won’t matter,” she agrees. “But until then—.”

Tobin breathes out slowly. Until then she’ll take what she’s offered, a few days a month are risk enough. She can wait until the day she has permission to do whatever she wants. Until they’ve reached a point in their life together where the act of creating life together wouldn’t be an accident but a promise. And she smiles into the kiss Christen gives her, the slight pain of the way she uses her teeth.

“You’ve got some work to do, baby,” her wife whispers, mouth tracing up her jaw. “And I’ll even let you decide how you want to get it done,” Christen’s fingers scratch over her abs, causing Tobin to hiss in surprise, causing her flagging cock to twitch in renewed desire, “your fingers or your mouth.”


	2. Private Training (Lindsey/Emily)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lindsey and Emily, teenagers at camp with too much time on their hands.

Lindsey looked down at the girl underneath her in some kind of horror. “Fuck,” she swore, though the sound came out more like a whimper than anything else. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—that’s never happened before.”

Her face was beet red as she scrambled back, reaching for a pillow to clutch over her lap. What had begun as a friendly make-out session between her and camp her roommate had all-too-quickly escalated to this, Lindsey grinding against the other girl until she’d come, spilling into her training shorts with an embarrassed moan. “Seriously, Em,” she said, uncertain how to interpret the look in the other girl’s eyes. “I’m so, so sor—“

She wasn’t allowed to finish the sentence though, the other girl crossed the distance to where Lindsey has trapped herself against the corner of their hotel room, and covered her lips with a raised finger. “Stop apologizing,” the blonde gave her a smile, “there’s nothing to apologize for.”

“But—“ and Lindsey gestured down to the other girl’s training gear, identical to her own, and the wet spot there just over her abdomen, the evidence of her inability to just keep her damn head in the game. She could swear she was going die of embarrassment, seeing her semen there on the other girl, soaking into her shorts. But then Emily reached down to touch it, feeling the slickness under her fingers, before looking back up at her roommate.

“It’ll wash?” Emily shrugged, but she didn’t stop rubbing her finger over the stain, almost working it into the fabric, and Lindsey felt her penis twitch—the traitor—inside her soaked shorts. She could see it now, the other girl’s blown pupils, the way she bit her lip as she met the taller girl’s eyes, how her breath hitched with what Lindsey realized was arousal.

Already she could feel her cock begin to rise again, growing longer and thicker as all of the blood in her body rushed south. And Lindsey didn’t—couldn’t—do the right thing, excuse herself to the bathroom to have a very quick, very hands-on talk with herself about why the way their first attempt had gone was a blessing. Stopping things before they went too far. Because sleeping with her roommate, doing anything but sleeping with her roommate, was the absolute worst idea she could ever possibly entertain.

Except Emily still stood there looking at her, licking her lips as she saw the way Lindsey held the pillow closer to hide her renewed arousal. “Problem?” The blonde asked, and when Lindsey met her eyes she could see the amusement there, but also the softness, the concern.

“Nope, no problem,” she shook her head quickly, but all the air escaped from her lungs when Emily reached out a hand and slowly pulled the pillow away.

She looked for a long, slow moment before lifting her eyes to meet Lindsey’s, biting her lip. “You sure?” the words came out in a low voice, one that seemed to cut straight through to Lindsey’s almost fully erect cock. And before the taller girl could even process what’s happening, she felt strong, soft fingers tracing over the outline of her thick shaft through the damp shorts.

Lindsey caught her wrist, holding it still, fighting the instinct to move it lower, to bring their entwined fingers to the base of her cock, where Emily’s fingers could skim over her aching balls before wrapping them tight around her erection. “Em—,” Lindsey managed to speak, the name slipping out as a warning, or maybe, maybe, an invitation.

The blonde looked into her eyes, scratching over the front of Lindsey’s shorts but not shaking her hand free of the other woman’s clasp just yet. “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” she whispered, leaning forward to brush her lips over Lindsey’s collarbone. “I think you’re hot, you think I’m hot. I’d rather do this with someone I think I could be friends with, you know?”

And Lindsey nodded, swallowing against the suddenly dry desert of her mouth. She knew. She knew exactly what the blonde was talking about. This, it could be fun, it could be simple. It didn’t have to mean anything. And wouldn’t she rather lose her virginity to someone like Emily? Someone fun, someone hot, someone she wouldn’t have to see in the halls at school every day after?

“Just a camp thing?” she swallowed hard again, fingers itching to tug down her shorts and free her needy, aching erection.

Emily nodded. “Just a camp thing,” she smiled, and then before Lindsey could do it herself, she slipped her fingers into the taller woman’s waistband and easily pushed down the dark blue shorts, gasping softly as Lindsey’s cock sprang free.

“Oh, shit,” she smiled, letting Lindsey see that everything was still okay, that she might not have expected it but that she was still entirely okay with it. “Can I—?” Emily nodded toward the bobbing erection, and Lindsey let the wall behind her take more of her weight, certain that without its support she just lose the ability to stand upright for much longer.

“You can do whatever you want,” the words blended together, like Lindsey was afraid that the blonde might change her mind if she hesitated even just a second. But then Emily’s fingers were on her, around her, and the taller girl was pretty sure if she closed her eyes she’d see stars. 

Emily’s fingers didn’t feel anything like her own, and it would be impossible to describe how Lindsey knew that nothing would ever feel as holy as that moment, those gentle fingers moving up and down her shaft. But it was too little and too much all at once, and she had to take the girl’s hand again, showing the blonde how to touch her, moaning when Emily got the hint and gripped her tightly, moving up and down just right.

It was going to be over soon if Lindsey didn’t stop her. And there was no way she was going to embarrass herself again with this girl. “Wait,” she hated herself for saying it, “stop.” And Emily obeyed immediately, not letting go but no longer stroking over Lindsey’s throbbing cock. “We should—I want—“

But Emily understood easily, even without the words. And before Lindsey could quite catch up, her roommate was laying on the bed next to the window, shorts and underwear on the floor, though she’d kept on her training top, and Lindsey did the same. She reached for her travel bag, pulling out a baggie of toiletries—toothbrush, aspirin, and a handful of little foil packets.

“It’s, um, easier to clean up,” Lindsey blushed again when she saw the look of curiosity cross the other girl’s face. “Like, when I need to—“

“Oh,” Emily grinned. “Do you often? Like, have you done it this week? While I was asleep?” 

She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t lie, not to the girl laying there before her on the bed, legs spread open and just waiting for Lindsey to enter her. To make this real. “Um,” Lindsey’s hands shook as she opened the foil, well aware that Emily’s eyes were on her, watching everything she was doing. “I can be pretty quiet. And, like, once I was sure you were asleep—.” Lindsey held the tip to the head of her cock and began rolling the thin latex down over her shaft. “Once I knew, like for sure, I would roll one on and then when it was over, hide the evidence in a Kleenex to throw out in the morning.”

And she might have been more embarrassed about admitting that if she hadn’t seen the way Emily’s fingers had slipped down between her legs, beginning to circle over her clit. “Do you?” Lindsey asked before clearing her throat. “I mean, have you ever? While in camp?” But the blonde just breathed out slowly, and she reached for the other girl, taking Lindsey’s hand and bringing it between her legs, letting her feel the pooling need there.

“Please,” Emily asked, “please.”

Lindsey didn’t get an answer, but she didn’t need one. She could feel Emily’s need in the way Emily’s body gripped her tight as she pressed into her, as she felt Emily’s body take her cock. “Oh, fuck,” she shuddered, needing to pause for a moment, everything overwhelming her just a little. “I just need—just give me a second.”

Emily’s fingers gripped her hips, digging in there in a way that Lindsey knew there would be bruises tomorrow. But she couldn’t have cared less. “Take your time,” the blonde joked, “I’ve got no plans.” But there was just the hint of a whine there behind the words, and when Lindsey met her eyes, she could tell that the other girl was just as in this, wanted to be under her just as much as Lindsey wanted to be over her.

So she began to move, and with every thrust, the most delightful little cry escaped from Emily’s lips. It stirred something inside of the brunette’s chest to know that she wasn’t the only one affected, feeling all of the things running through her blood as she pumped her hips into her roommate.

It didn’t last long, and Lindsey pressed her head into the other woman’s shoulder as she came, grateful for the condom to catch what felt like the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced. “Fuck,” she lifted her head from Emily’s skin, seeing the reddened skin, the imprint of her teeth left behind. 

“Did you?” Emily asked, her fingers drawing circles over the small of the taller girl’s back.

Lindsey grinned down at her stupidly. “Oh, oh yeah,” she felt positively lightheaded. “I get it now, why everyone makes such a big deal about all that.” And Emily raised an eyebrow, amused and also curious.

“Was it really that much different than when you, you know, do it yourself?” she asked. And Lindsey lifted herself up on her elbows to look at the girl underneath her, thinking for a moment before she answered.

“You know how you can practice a PK a thousand times?” she asked, “but, like, when you actually get there, in the game, and it’s you and the ball and the keeper staring back at you, seeing that ball hit the net, it’s like—“

“Learning a whole new way to breathe,” Emily whispered, clenching around her cock unconsciously, and Lindsey realized she was still inside her, still buried deep in the other girl.

“Did you?” Lindsey asked, even though she was pretty sure she knew the answer. And the blonde hesitated for a moment before shaking her head, unable to meet the other girl’s eyes. Lindsey nodded, she wanted this to be just as good for her partner as it had been for her. “Give me like two minutes?” she said softly, pulling out of Emily, careful to keep the condom from spilling as she tied it off and took it to the bathroom.

Emily just watched, feeling open and exposed, waiting for the other girl to return, holding out her hand for Lindsey to rejoin her on the bed when she returned from the bathroom. “It’s okay,” the blonde smiled up at her, “really.”

But Lindsey shook her head. “Just tell me if I’m doing something wrong,” she whispered, kissing Emily, holding her close as she moved her fingers between the other woman’s legs. “You’re so wet,” she said against the blonde’s jaw, fingers slipping through Emily’s arousal, skimming over her clit.

The blonde gasped and then grunted softly as the taller woman kissed her, rubbed over her clit. She was close, so close. “More,” Emily whimpered against Lindsey’s lips, “please.” And the brunette smocked her fingers faster, firmer, until she felt Emily begin to tremble against her. But she continued to stroke over the other woman’s clit until Emily’s thighs clamped tight around her hand, preventing her from continuing. 

“Can’t,” Emily shook her head, still gasping from her climax, “too much.” And Lindsey nodded, pulling her hand back when the blonde opened her legs enough for her to remove it.

They lay there, catching their breath, in the dark room, hearing the occasional thud of a door slamming somewhere down the hall, or a loud shout from one of their teammates. But other than that, the room was quiet until, rather suddenly, Emily began to laugh, Lindsey only hesitating a moment before joining in.

“Fuck,” Emily grinned at her, “that should be written into the training plan. I feel like I could go a full 90 and then some.” She rolled into her back, still feeling the languid, boneless ease of the post-orgasmic endorphin rush. And Lindsey felt relieved that it was going to be so easy. That she could have just lost her virginity to her roommate, brought the girl to orgasm with her fingers, and then giggled with her at just how fucking  good it all felt.

“We could make it part of our training plan,” she suggested innocently, refusing to meet Emily’s eyes. “Our own private sessions, like?”

Emily’s eyes narrowed for just a moment before the laughter bubbled up and out from her again. “So smart,” she grinned. “You’re gonna go far, Horan.” 


	3. Take a Knee (Tobin/Christen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief journey through Tobin’s early sexual history, until Christen.

The first time Tobin ever sticks her dick in a girl, she’s 16 and a girl she’s known since middle school, a girl she’s spent plenty of time practicing her flirty smirk on, corners her behind the equipment shed after practice. A few long, slow kisses later, and her hard cock is in Jaycee’s mouth and Tobin is one hundred percent certain that she is going to die and go to Hell any second now. Except she doesn’t do any of those things. Instead, she comes messily over the other girl’s chest, the pinny Jaycee is still wearing, and stutters some ridiculous attempt at a thank you as she stuffs her dick back into her shorts and runs off to the locker room to shower and change.

It happens a few more times, culminating in one heart-stopping experience at an end-of-the-season house party, where one moment she’s grinding against Jaycee’s leg on an abandoned couch in the upstairs den and the next warm fingers are pulling her out from her fly, and guiding her right to a warm, wet entrance. And Jaycee is in her ear, whispering. “Just the tip,” she whimpers, “I just want to know how it feels.” But Tobin’s body takes over, and after a few attempts, she’s inside the other girl, far more than just the tip of her cock. She couldn’t have stopped herself from burying herself in her classmate once permission is given, and she’s barely halfway home inside her before she comes, thighs shaking at the intensity, unprotected in the tight channel of Jaycee’s pussy while the other girl makes the kinds of noises Tobin is sure she would be more appropriate for a porn clip. And it’s that, the performance of desire, that leaves a sickly, oily feeling in her belly the whole rest of the night.

A feeling that is all too quickly supplanted when the fear of having to face the potential consequences of her stupid dinosaur brain hits her hard the next morning, and Tobin promises herself she’s never having sex again. She has too much to lose.

So she pretends for awhile. Lets a boy from the lacrosse team take her to the winter formal, and ends up on her knees for him, his cock demanding entrance against her lips as she wonders if this was what Jaycee felt, like she was nothing more than a vessel for someone else’s need. Still, she lets it happen, figuring that it’s only fair to know what it’s like to have someone’s hands in her hair, someone holding her head still as he seeks his release in her mouth.

After, Tobin is almost relieved to have something confirmed for her, some question she’d been wrestling with all on her own for months and years now. No matter who anyone else thinks she is, what she should be, Tobin knows now. She knows who she is and who she wants. And she knows, too, what she’s not ready for. 

So she stops. Stops responding when the girls flirt with her, stops pretending when the boys express their interest. Tobin stops doing anything but chasing her dreams, and that, for the longest time, is enough. 

*

It’s enough.

Until it isn’t.

*

It’s Christen, in college, who makes Tobin’s head turn at last. A year younger, another student athlete she passes frequently in the Athletic’s locker-room, with a laugh that seems to echo off the tile walls and straight into Tobin’s bloodstream. She sees her, this new girl in one of the few places that she’s ever felt at home and for the first time in a long forever, Tobin feels her heart stutter a little, feels the ground beneath her feet grow a little less steady.

And her dreams are still there, of course, kits and crests and stars, there’s also this girl who makes her belly ache with desire. Who fills her thoughts when awake and her dreams when asleep. It consumes her, the want, until Tobin finds herself waking, cock in hand and belly wet with her own release, far more often than ever before. And Christen’s name all too often on her lips.

It’s Kelley who finally does it. Who spurs Tobin into action. Threatening to ask the girl out herself if the midfielder doesn’t get off her ass and just do it already. Laughing at the way Tobin trips over her own feet as she turns and walks away, a dark cloud trailing after her the whole rest of the day. But it does the job. Because the next time she sees the pretty tennis player with the most beautiful green eyes Tobin thinks have ever existed, she takes the chance and asks her out.

Weeks and months of movie nights and shared workouts and carefully prepared meals fit for all their nutritional needs turn into a different kind of dream, one that doesn’t replace the one she’s been chasing so long, but fits in seamlessly right alongside it. Just like Christen, who so quickly fills the empty space at her side that Tobin never knew existed. And Tobin hopes with everything inside of her that she does the same for the girl with the laughing green eyes and the gentle fingers and the softest, sweetest, morning whisper.

It’s serious, this thing between them. Serious enough that she takes Christen home one holiday break, and shows the tennis star all around her high school town, culminating with the soccer field, Tobin relating all her old glories to her patient girlfriend. It’s Christen who points out the shed with a dangerous grin, asking if it’s the same one from Tobin’s story, and Christen who takes her hand, tugging her toward it, checking just one last time to make sure they’re alone.

But Tobin doesn’t want to relive the same old story. Not with Christen, the girl she loves in a way she didn’t think was possible all those years before when a girl whose face she can barely remember first knelt for her.

No, Tobin wants to rewrite it, the story. And so it’s Christen whose fingers are gripping her shoulders, and Christen whose whimpers float off into the early spring afternoon, and it’s Christen’s fluids that coat her lips and cheeks and chin as Tobin stands and kissed her softly as the tennis player pants against her mouth, coming down slowly.

“Damn,” she whispers, smiling into the soccer player’s kiss, “just ... damn.”


	4. Remind Me (Alex/Kelley)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex’s first camp back brings new insecurities. Kelley reminds her of exactly who she is.

Alex is a mom now. 

Kelley still can’t believe it. Even seeing the way her best friend’s body had swelled with child. Even after seeing the evidence firsthand, the way Alex had taken on this warm glow, a sort of knowing wisdom seeming to radiate out from her. Even after holding Alex’s daughter in her arms.

Alex was a mother now and still, months after the girl was born, it still takes Kelley by surprise to think of it. To think that her sorority sister, her wingwoman, her late night lonely friend with benefits had grown and nurtured a whole damn  child  with the very same body she’d used to nurture two-for-one bucket margaritas at the dive bars just off the beach long before either of them were legal.

It’s Alex’s breasts that she can’t look away from now. She’s touched the West Coast woman’s breasts before. Cupped them in her palms, weighed them as she rubbed the pads of her thumbs over Alex’s nipples. She’s felt the hard points of her best friend’s nipples brush against her own as they rolled together in one hotel bed or another. They were the first thing she’d noticed changing, even before Alex had made her closest friends privy to the news, how suddenly old, familiar pieces of her best friend’s wardrobe had begun to fit in an entirely new way. 

She has no defense, Kelley. She’s always been a breasts woman. 

And now it’s even worse. Because Alex still has the heavy breasts of a woman who has borne a child. And Kelley can’t—can’t—look away. Because they’re just so beautiful. 

They’ve never been shy about changing in front of each other, even before the times in their lives when they’d let their nudity slip into a far more personal, passionate, realm than roommates at just another camp. But now, now Kelley almost wishes that Alex would be out of sync with their old selves, fluster and cover herself, apologizing for the presumption. Because to look at her, to see the roundness of her hips, the softness of her belly. The silvery stretch marks that track across her thighs, the milky blue veins of her breasts. 

It’s too much, too different from the Alex that she remembers, the Alex whose taste she can still can still conjure up on her lips. It’s too much, too much the same woman she’s loved—at a distance, at an arm’s breadth away—since she was 19. And Kelley wants to, wants to be able to look away, give her roommate, her friend, the respect of privacy, but Alex just looks over at her with a blush and a soft smile. 

“Sorry,” the forward offers apologetically, “I forgot this is the first time you’ve seen me since before I really started to show.” And she reaches for the pajamas in her suitcase. But Kelley moves too quickly, and reaches for her hand, encircling Alex’s wrist with her strong fingers. There had been something there, hidden under the apology. Fear, Kelley realizes, insecurity.

Kelley doesn’t let her go, but her grip is loose enough that Alex could pull away if she wanted. She doesn’t. And it’s permission enough for the defender to tug her back, both of them falling onto the bed. 

“Kel,” Alex whispers, her hands coming up to cover the parts of her she’s embarrassed about, and Kelley lets her, though she shifts and stands above her friend, looking down at her, into her eyes. 

And what she sees there, she hates. The nerves that had never been there before, the shame. It causes her an almost physical pain, to see that Alex has gained the incredible burden of self-doubt that she’d never carried before. “Alex,” Kelley’s voice is a whisper, soft and warm, and it falls over the room like a comforting blanket. She leans forward, pressing a kiss over those familiar lips, light enough that she knows, if the other woman doesn’t want this, she has every ability to push her away, to shake her head, to refuse the comfort that Kelley is offering. 

She doesn’t. She doesn’t do any of those things. Kelley kisses her softer than a wish and Alex whimpers under her touch. Kelley recognizes the sound, Alex at her most needy, most afraid to need. “Alex,” she whispers again, moving her lips over the younger woman’s jaw, and then up, kissing over the tracks of tears that she doesn’t even think Alex knows have fallen, “honey.” 

She’d been in love with this woman once. Kelley had loved her the way the moon loves the sun, just so pleased to catch a reflection of her warmth every now and then. She doesn’t love her now, not like that any longer. But she loves her in a deeper way, a warmer one. She knows her with the same depth and knowledge that she knows herself, that she loves herself. Now Kelley loves her like the planets, bodies near enough to touch, orbits that will never cross. It’s why she knows that she can do this, what she’s about to do, and still survive. Unburnt and unbroken. Unlike the days before, the times when she knew Alex would never be hers.

Kelley knows that now too, of course. But now she’s accepted it. Now she has her own person to run home to when it’s over. Someone who knows what Alex is and has been in her life. Someone who knows Alex poses no threat, not in the face of the true and full love that Kelley has finally found. 

She whispers the word again, softly and softer over Alex’s skin, her neck, her jaw, the throb at her temples. Until she meets the other woman’s lips again, this time wet with salt, the tears finally havi

“Kel—“ the younger woman moans softly, and Kelley smiles. 

“I’m here, Al. I’m here.” 

*

Alex is gasping above her, arms flung out and grasping at the sheets, and the dim light of the room reflects off of the thin sheen of sweat that covers her body. She’s beautiful, Kelley wants to tell her, but Alex has always been beautiful. Alex has always known that. What she doesn’t know, what Kelley thinks she needs to hear, is that she’s strong. So she whispers that as her lips explore the salty, sweaty skin of Alex’s abs, as her tongue dips into the new groove there between the muscles. 

The younger woman’s hand comes down as she feels Kelley’s mouth begin to explore the separation of her abs, and Kelley looks up at her, resting her chin against her friend’s muscles, feeling the tremble even now, even when they’d only just gotten started. “Al?” Kelley asks gently, knowing what the other woman is going to say but needing to hear it anyway. Needing Alex to say it, hear herself say it. 

“Not there,” Alex shakes her head a little, “the baby—“ 

But Kelley reaches for her fingers, kissing them one by one before she looks back up at the woman spread before her on the bed. “The baby changed your body,” she nods, “but you didn’t mind when I touched your breasts earlier? When I used my tongue to trace over the new lines there.” Kelley meets her eyes, her gaze so strong that she knows Alex can’t dare to look away, “You didn’t mind when I tasted them.” And she grins, seeing the slight blush over Alex’s face that seems so out of place while they’re there naked, talking about Kelley licking the droplets of milk that had begun to leak from her nipples as the other woman’s fingers and mouth had nursed her arousal higher and higher.

Alex wants to look away, she wants to so badly, but she can’t. It’s always been a battle of wills between her and the stubborn Georgian, and she won’t let Kelley win now, not over this. “That’s different,” she gasps a little, Kelley’s fingers moving up to stroke over her nipples once more, “that’s expected—that happens to everyone.” And she has to swallow hard as she watches her friend bring her milk-wet fingers to her tongue, licking at them before she’s rolling them over her nipples again. “Jesus, Kelley,” Alex croaks, feeling the lightning sparks of need shoot through her body again. She hasn’t felt like this in months, since before the baby. Maybe longer. Maybe since the last time. So wanted and so whole. 

Kelley looks up at her while she massages over Alex’s firm, full breasts, just watching the want and the need as they flash over the other woman’s face. “If you want me to stop, Als,” she uses an old nickname for her friend, “you know I will.” And she lifts her hands from the forward’s body, letting them just hover over the the warm skin there. Kelley smiles and she knows, and Alex knows she knows, that there will be no stopping. That Alex wants this, wants what she can give her.

She’s arching her back up, lifting her breasts into Kelley’s touch, hips rising against where Kelley lays over her, needing more. It’s not just permission to continue, it’s a blessing. 

Kelley smiles and begins to kiss down Alex’s stomach torso again, lips pressing along the lines of muscle there until once again, she begins to trace the gap there, where Alex’s body had quite literally split itself apart to accommodate the child that had grown within her. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” the defender says, a practiced nonchalance behind the words. She lifts her eyes to Alex’s again. “Sure, you were hot before,” Kelley smiles, kissing over the little pool of sweat gathering on Alex’s skin, “but now—“

Her mouth moves lower, following the firm lines of the V that leads to the juncture of Alex’s hips before traveling back up the other side. She leaves soft kisses along the permanent stretch marks that now cross the firm plane of the forward’s lower abdomen. “Your body, it grew a whole human being,” Kelley continues, kissing over every new line, “grew and fed and nurtured her. That’s the sexiest thing a person can do. Every stretch mark, Als, it's a sign of this great thing you did, it's evidence of just how strong you are."

Her tongue dips in between Alex’s legs, just enough that her legs fall open wider, welcoming Kelley to rest between them. But the older woman doesn't settle in between them just yet; she just grins and continues to kiss along her friend’s skin, finding every little element that Alex could call an imperfection and worshipping over them. She wants Alex to know that every part of her, every change within her is perfect, is beautiful. So Kelley whispers the words over the other woman's lines and curves, sealing each with a press of her lips over Alex's skin. Determined that by the time they're through, Alex will believe them. 

"Your hips, God, Alex, I watched you walk off that bus today and I could barely keep my hands off of them," Kelley's hands trace the curve of those hips as she moves lower, "and your thighs, fuck. I mean, do you even know?" But when she looks up, it's clear that Alex doesn't. Doesn't yet. 

The younger woman blushes. "I mean, I haven't lost all the—they're flabbier now, they're not as toned any more. I don't know if—"

But Kelley shakes her head. "Before the baby, Alex," she says firmly, "you had all these hard muscles and sharp edges. And you were beautiful. Powerful and strong." Kelley watches her carefully. "And now, now you're a little rounder, a softer," her hands trace those same curves now, warm and loving. "But underneath? You're just as strong as you've ever been." 

Kelley has never been a very serious person, but she's serious now. Just about as serious as she thinks she can get. "The soft doesn't cancel out the strong, honey," her voice is firm, husky with the weight of this moment, "it makes you stronger." And there are tears in Alex's eyes again, but they're of a different caliber now. There's a depth to them, and as Kelley looks up at one of her oldest and closest friends, Alex nods. She's heard the words, Kelley's message, her point. 

"Please, Kel," Alex whimpers now, "please." 

And Kelley reaches a hand up to give her arm a reassuring rub. "I'm going to make you feel so good, Al," she whispers, gives the other woman a reassuring smile. "Just like old times." And with a final nod from Alex, Kelley shifts lower, kissing down the inside of her thighs, until she reaches exactly the place where she wants to be. 

*

Alex's legs are over her shoulders, ankles cross and digging into Kelley's back as she continues to move her tongue against the younger woman's sex. She can taste how close the woman beneath her is, can feel it in the way Alex's body moves under the arm she's using to hold her steady. In how tightly Alex's thighs are pressed against her temples. In the sounds—soft, breathless, gasping—that fill the empty places that surround them. 

Kelley's tongue rubs firm circles around the base of Alex's clit before flicking at the very tip of it. She repeats this, just a little different every time, just enough to keep Alex on her toes, two fingers stroking up inside of Alex, thrusting just right against the spot she knows will drive Alex higher and higher. And then she feels it, that familiar tremble of her friend's thighs around her head, the way Alex presses up and into her mouth, needing more. She feels it, how Alex clenches around her fingers, the way her body goes tense, holding so utterly still, and then slack.She feels it, the spread of Alex's slick fluids against her mouth, and Kelley can't help it, she moans softly at the taste—familiar and not, all at once. 

At last, Alex's body lax underneath hers, Kelley pulls back slowly, easing the other woman through the aftershocks. And the younger woman is gasping softly as she climbs back up to lay next to her. "Cuddle?" Kelley asks softly, her palm just skimming over the forward's sweat-damp skin. She still remembers what Alex likes; she could never forget. 

"That was—," Alex tries to speak, still catching her breath, "Kel—." But Kelley smiles and kisses her cheek gently, almost sweetly. 

"That was for old times' sake," she whispers, pulling Alex close, holding her tight enough until she can feel the trembling begin to settle in the younger woman's limbs. "So you'd remember how absolutely amazing you are." And Kelley smiles into the kiss she presses against Alex's temple. "Being a mom, Als, it's only made you stronger, more powerful. It's given you so much more to fight for, to prove." 

Kelley shifts onto her side, so she can look down at her friend, her teammate. "All of your best years—as an athlete, a wife, a friend—they're just getting started." 

They lay together in the quiet, letting the air and the energy settle around them. "Do you want me to—" and Alex gestures down to where Kelley is more than aware her own arousal hasn't waned in the least. But the defender shakes her head, giving her friend a gentle smile. 

"This was for you," she whispers, and Alex nods, understanding.

"You're just going to go and find your girlfriend, aren't you?" Alex laughs softly, and if there were any doubts, any fears, that they could just pick up and move forward again as if nothing had happened between them, they disappear in the way that Kelley's eyes sparkle at the mention of the woman she loves. She feels her friend shift, and knows that Kelley will be getting up soon, going off to find the blonde who has captured her heart. But she can't let Kelley go without saying something, without acknowledging just what the other woman's words have meant to her. 

"Kel?" she whispers, and captures the defender's wrist in just the same way Kelley had caught hers, "some day, that girl is going to give you a child." And Alex smiles, inside and out, at the look that crosses her friend's face at the thought. "And when that happens? Just tell her everything you told me today, okay?" 

And Kelley nods. 

She will. 


	5. In the Night (Tobin/Christen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobin knows the rules.

Some days, Tobin can’t believe that she gets to do this, love this woman, be with her. The terrified child she’d been, the angry teenager, neither could have ever dreamed of it. That there could be a woman in the world who would love her. Want her. Want this. 

That there would ever be nights like the one before, full of laughter and loving. Gentle touches and heated gasps. Moans that turn into groans that turn into grunts as she worships at her wife’s body, bringing them both to the edge of need and then tippling them both over it together.

The girl that she used to be never could have imagined this kind of future for herself, mornings like this where she wakes up with her wife’s hair in her mouth, her wife’s arm thrown across her belly. Where the wheeze of her wife’s soft exhale makes her grin, and want nothing more than to press their lips together, wake her up with slow kisses, until she sees those perfect green eyes smiling up at her. 

The Tobin she was would never have believed this whole life could be hers. 

But the Tobin that is doesn’t need to believe in it, she can see it right before her, touch it, taste it. 

And so she does. 

*

Christen wakesto her wife’s familiar, adorable grunts against her neck. To the feel of Tobin over her, within her, and smiles sleepily, not at all upset to have been awoken from her sleep by her wife’s need. “Morning, baby,” she hums softly, pressing a kiss to the dark messy knot of Tobin’s hair as her hands come up to slip under the fleecy waist of Tobin’s sleep pants, amused at her wife’s laziness, not even bothering to push them down past her ass. 

And for a moment, Tobin stiffens, pauses, almost guiltily. But Christen just scratches at the back of her wife’s neck, taps her ass gently. Permission to continue.

Her sweet girl. Christen smiles at her wife’s slight hesitation, that need for confirmation that yes, this is okay. This is wanted. Still, she feels one of Tobin’s hands clutch at the nightgown she’s pushed up Christen’s hips—her sweet, sweet girl. Always, always double-doubke-checking. 

“You know the rule,” Christen whispers into her hair, “nightgown means you can take without asking. Sleep pants mean I’m not in the mood for that. What am I wearing?” 

The words are soft in their reassurance, but softer still is Tobin’s answer. “Nightgown,” she whispers, and Christen taps her ass again, smiling when she feels Tobin begin to move again, short, shallow thrusts that gently rock the both of them against the mattress. But she knows that will change soon, she can already feel the way the downstroke lingers, deeper and deeper inside her body. 

Tobin’s head shifts, until her mouth is just over Christen’s breasts, and then over them, suckling her nipples into stiff peaks, first one, and then turning her head for the other. And Christen feels the tug in her womb at the sensation, the crackle of sparks and the promised fire. “Yes,” she moans deeply, “good girl.”

*

Tobin can feel her orgasm approaching. It’s in the tingle at the base of her spine, in the lift of her balls, in the warm pressure she feels at the base of her cock. She’s not going to last very long, she’s not going to last more than the next few thrusts into her wife’s tight, hot sex. Every thrust deep into the center of her wife’s being is almost too much for her to bear, hot and wet and so, so tight with Christen clenching her muscles around her and she knows there’s something she’s forgetting, something she’s forgotten, but everything that isn’t the absolute mad pleasure of Christen around her is lost in this feeling of absolute ecstasy. 

She cradles her wife’s head as she lifts herself up on her elbows, thrusting hard and fast with no rhythm, seeking and seeking and seeking until ...

... until she finds it, home. Deep within Christen’s body, she finds it. And her body shudders and shakes as she clutches her wife close to her, balls pulsing as she spills into the woman she loves beyond all reason. 

Whimpering, weak, Tobin collapses over Christen, struggling to find come down from her high. 

*

Christen can feel it already, the warm, wet sensation of Tobin’s semen, slipping from where they’re joined together to pool beneath them, soaking through the sheets under her ass. And she closes her eyes in annoyance. She’s not mad, accidents happen, but it’s happened more times in recent memory than she’d like to remember, and she knows she can’t let it go unaddressed. 

She waits until Tobin’s breathing is back to normal, until she can’t feel the racing of her wife’s heartbeat against her chest quite as strongly any longer. “Up,” Christen pokes a finger into the side of Tobin’s ribs, not hard, but not as gentle as she could either. And it gives her no amount of pleasure when Tobin complies immediately; a little groan of disappointment, sure, and Christen may decide to address that later. But without hesitation, she feels her wife withdraw, and watches as the pink spreads across Tobin’s face, realizing what this chastisement is likely to be about. 

“Did you forget? Or did you decide not to,” she asks in a firm voice. And she can’t deny the slightest frisson of pleasure when she sees how her wife’s flagging cock revives just the slightest at the tone. She does have a thing for discipline, her wife. 

Tobin’s sheepish look is one of her most favorite things in the world, that slightly hangdog expression, the curve of her shoulders, the pink of her skin. “Tobin,” Chris prods, still waiting for an answer, and this time there’s a warning tone.

“Forgot,” Tobin mumbles, kneeling there above her, and Christen wants so much to reach out and collect the little dribble of cum there, the string of it just suspended there from her wife’s tip. But she won’t. Can’t. Because what Tobin needs more than her touch is her firmness, her structure and her rules, and Christen knows it. 

She nods her head a little, the encouragement as important as the reproof. “Too many times, Toby,” Christen looks at her from where she’s propped herself up on her elbows. “Too many times lately.” And she sees her wife nod. Honestly, Christen could have stopped it the last time, or the time before, but the increased excitement of breaking the rules pales in comparison to the increased release that a punishment delayed brings. And she knows that well. 

And so she lets Tobin cross the line a few too many times. 

Just like she’s about to let Tobin set the terms for walking back over it. 

“What should happen to someone who knows the rule about coming inside, but doesn’t follow it?” Christen asks, her voice soft but her tone firm. And she watches as her wife hangs her head. Not in shame, notin anger. In acceptance and gratitude. Tobin had once compared herself to a spinning top, one that gradually loses its wobbling orbit if left alone too long. She needed a hand to come in every now and again, to set her right. 

Christen is only too happy to be that hand. 

“They should have to clean up the mess,” Tobin tries, even though she already knows she’ll be the one with the warm, wet cloth, wiping away her drying seed from Christen’s sex. The one changing the sheets and doing the wash. It’s an half-hearted, feeble attempt at a consequence, and one she knows will be rejected as too little. 

“What else,” Christen asks, reaching to tangle her fingers with her wife’s, reassurance that she isn’t really mad. That this is well within the bounds of their comfortable existence. 

Tobin lets out a low, breathy sigh. She knows what Christen’s waiting for. “Condoms” the word comes out as almost a whimper. “Condoms until I can prove that I can control myself again.” And there it is, the proud, approving look on Christen’s face. 

“Good girl,” she whispers, pulling her wife down to lay over her again. “That’s my good girl.” And Tobin whimpers an apology against her warm skin. 

“It’s okay, Toby,” she whispers, her hands running up and down her wife’s strong back, “it’s all going to be okay.”

She continues, stroking and whispering, until she can feel her wife asleep against her chest. She should wake her, should clean the mess between her thighs and strip the bed before the mattress stains. But Christen doesn’t move, just continues to run her fingers over her wife’s warm skin. 

The wet spot grows cold under her ass, and Tobin’s cum begins to dry against her thighs. But what matters more than all of that is the pleasure of this woman, her wife, asleep in her arms. The rest will keep.


End file.
